


The Ballad of Trevor Philips

by majak0vskij



Category: GTA - Fandom, GTA:V, Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Prostitution, Trucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 22:46:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4117516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majak0vskij/pseuds/majak0vskij
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meet the young Trevor Philips, who supports himself as a prostitute by a truck stop near the Canadian border. In every sense a free man, or has he just not realised on what side of the cage bars he is?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ballad of Trevor Philips

Freedom.  
The young man outside the truck stop exhaled the smoke from his last cigarette and pondered the meaning of the word. He was young enough to still appreciate the thought of himself as a man in deep thought over his cancer stick, but old enough to know that it had to be the last one for the day unless he wanted to scare off further business. No john with a reasonable sense of personal hygiene wanted a kiss that tasted of the cheap brand Trevor smoked. He ran his fingers through the greasy and tangled mullet as he sucked the smoke deep into his lungs.  
Ever since the dishonourable discharge from the airforce academy, he had been essentially free. Without a penny to his name, and a scrap of cloting that he did not currently wear, he must be free since he felt that he had nothing to lose. Sure, the soles of his shoes were coming off. Winter was closing in and with it the supply of lonesome tourists that passed the truck stop close to the border for the last refill of cheap gas before entering the inhumanely overpriced US (or land of lunacy and shit as he referred to it when he was drunk and had a good listener) was guranteed to be cut in half. It was going to be rough, but it was in the roughness he figured the essence of his freedom lay. He was free to act at any given time on the next opportunity that presented itself.  
He made the cigarette last as long as possible and then extracted himself from the thoughts of freedom. His fingers eagerly searched the pockets of his worn out denim trousers for some change. He was dreading the task at hand but it had to be done. She still held him in a firm grip despite the fact that she never wanted him, and never had bothered much to disguise her feelings. He finally found some coins and marched over from the entrance of the diner which was plastered with cheap offers and promises of the highest quality in food this side of the border.   
It was all a big scam, and he had once been offred a couple of bucks for helping out with cleaning the frigde of the remains of maggot infested meat. He was perfect for that kind of task as he had no one to voice his observences to, and he was always on the look out for an easy buck. He still frequented the place when his finances allowed it, or a paying customer fancied a meal before they got to work. The owners always looked at him with suspicion as he moved about in the dining hall inside. Maybe they worried about him telling somebody about what he had seen that time, or maybe they thought he would try to steal some of the decorations. They never said anything outright though and he just couldn’t help himself but always made remarks about today’s special, or how the customer should try the mystery meat.   
The fat owner who also served as chef had a petite wife who waited the tables. She threw daggers at him with her eyes, but he just smiled. She clearly wanted to ban his unhygienic and piss poor self from the joint but the fat chef just wouldn’t let her. Apart from the meat incident, he also happened to know just how the fat chef kept himself busy when the little lady was out of town. He had been involved several times along with equally piss poor local boys. Oh yes, young studs and cocaine always did the trick for that fat asshole. One time he had remarked on how the light from the red neon sign outside the diner made Trevor look even younger than he was, and whilst he let his hand wander over Trevor’s stubbled cheek had encourged him to shave while he himself went and got the other guys, to make the illusion of youth last longer. Another time he had explained to Trevor while they were getting undressed, that it was best to pick up homeless guys for this sort of things since they were guaranteed to not having eaten for a considerable amount of time. Always hungry for dick, and none of the shitty mess. His laugh at his own wit had stayed with Trevor for some time after, and he still couldn’t look the man in the eyes.  
-Hello? Hi ma…it’s me…Trevor! No, I can’t send you any cash. I’m short. No ma….hello? Mother? Mother! She hung up on him, and he punched the glass wall of the phone booth. The disappointment had a sharp edge because of the love he felt for his mother. Nothing would ever change that.   
He got control of his emotions and walked back to the entrance of the diner as he saw a big red truck pulling up. Maybe he could get a couple of bucks out of the driver. Hunger pangs of not having eaten anything for the last 48 hours gnawed at his insides. He thought of himself as an animal that would do whatever to accomodate his urges, the prime goal was survival and nothing else. He had the freedom to do whatever just to get through the day.  
\- Hi handsome, want to have some fun? He walked up to the rig and a equally skinny man as himself climbed out. He wore a cap and sunglasses despite the cloudy wheather that day, so there was no telling how he initially reacted to the offer. An unkept moustache covered the man’s mouth so no clues there either. Trevor was sure though that he was no stranger to this situation. None of the truck drivers were, even though they sometimes pretended to be shocked or offended by the offer to get him to lower the price. They were all cheap bastards.  
\- Yeah, maybe I do. What’s your rate? Trevor gave him that fake smile that showed off his brown eyes so well and leaned on the truck. Even though his clothes were both dirty, and torn and the stolen leather jacket he wore above the thin blue shirt told a tale of a broke man in desperate need for cash, and a roof over his head, Trevor always drove a hard bargain.  
\- 25 bucks and a sandwich. The man laughed.  
\- 25? Am I paying for your ass by the pound? Come on, you’re not exactly a blushing bride. I’ll get you that sandwich but you’re not getting more than 15.  
\- 15 is… it’s too little and you know it. Come on…I…  
\- No, you come on. I’ll throw in a couple of Deludamols you can let melt under your tongue while we fuck, and you can sleep in the truck ’til morning. I’m crashing here tonight. The man shrugged as he spoke but didn’t remove his glasses so Trevor could still not tell if he was being fooled or if he was given a quite good offer. He would very much like to sleep in a reasonably comfortable place for once, and the Deludamols did take the edge of the vastness of his freedom for some time. It was worth it.  
\- OK, you’ve got yourself a deal friend. He held out his hand and the stranger firmly gripped and shook it. He smiled and exposed a set of blackish rotten teeth. You can call me Cleetus. Trevor replied that he could be referred to as Philips.   
They walked into the diner and true to form the owners looked at him with the same suspicion as always. He just smiled and encouraged his newfound acquaintance to try the stew, but don’t try to chew it or anything. Cleetus replied in a foul smelling whisper that the whole don’t chew, and swallow thing was all left to him for later. Pretty witty for a trucker with the worst Southern accent Trevor had heard this side of the border. One of the fake smiles again, while Cleetus continued to place the order for them. They chose a table in the far end of the room and the mean wife took her good time to walk over there with the food. Trevor ate his sandwich quickly, so quickly that he almost vomited it right back up. This animal was really hungry. Cleetus ate little of his order of hamburger and fries but indulged himself in double cups of coffee. He seemed to enjoy the sight of Trevor eating, and offred him his leftovers. It was like a feeding ritual, and Cleetus motivated the kind gesture with the claim that he didn’t want Phillips to pass out in the middle of dessert. Trevor ignored the sleazy comment and wolfed down the food.  
There was a thousand ways to say it. Dessert being the latest. The act of love making another. Fornication a third. Dirty business another. He’d heard them all but preferred the simple ”fucking”. No sentimentalities, merely the mehanical satisfaction of yet another urge by animals who happened to have given pieces of paper the power of value, and who could exchange it for an orifice to satisfy that urge.  
Cleetus didn’t care much for conversation. He drank his coffee while Trevor ate, then he paid and tucked away two of the single serving packets of margerine one of the pockets in his jacket. How considerate, Trevor thought. Trevor vacuumed the plate for the last crumbs and were then ready to leave. Cleetus smiled as they left the diner under the watchful gaze of the fat chef. Trevor could tell by the sweat that trickled down his pudgy neck, that he found the notion of what was about to happen exciting. Another animal, a pig.  
As they climbed into the truck and pulled the curtains so that no one could see what they were up to, Cleetus put 4 Deludamols in a straight line on the dashboard beside the packets of margerine. He told Trevor to help himself, but go easy on them if he wasn’t used to the effect. He didn’t pay for any rape scenario. Trevor took two and placed them under his tongue so they would slowly melt. The effect lasted longer that way. He was very well accustomed to their effect but wanted to save some for later too. When Cleetus finally removed his sunglasses as Trevor undressed himself he could see that Cleetus’ pupils were the size of a pinhead, and the look in his coked up eyes were that of a carnivore who saw easy prey. He unbuckled his belt and told Trevor who quickly swallowed down the pills, to get his ass over there. The darkness caused by the pull of the curtains didn’t disguise the emptiness in Trevor’s eyes. A trapped animal.


End file.
